Page 114 of Serenity
Deep breaths.
“Cut the shit, Mya. I know you attempted to extort money from Duke months ago. What are you playing at?”
“You sound just like Duke. That’s what he told you?” Her bemused expression sent cold racing through my veins. “Please. Come in. I’ll tell you all about Duke and I.”
Stepping inside, I noted how much smaller her apartment was in comparison to Duke’s condo. While undeniably luxuriant, it didn’t hold a candle to what was on the floor above us.
“Duke owes me. The money you claim I attempted to extort from him is mine. I stood beside him and aided him with the restructuring of that company he runs. I’m entitled to my just due. These little alimony payments are cute, but they aren’t my fair share.”
Cute, she said of fifty-thousand-dollar payments.
She continued, just rambling away. Nodding and listening, I kept my fucking mouth closed. The same way I’d done after the yoga classes. Listening. Allowing her to dig her grave deeper.
“Control was his middle name. He didn’t want a working woman. He wanted me home cleaning and cooking. Barefoot and pregnant. He was a king who needed a submissive queen. Any money I needed, he had to approve of. I wanted to go to school. He didn’t want me smart. He wanted a mindless woman. Someone who’d be waiting with her legs open at the end of his workday. Sound familiar?”
Poker face in effect, I let her speak. One of the greatest tools in the Miller arsenal was our capacity to listen. Read a rambler. Learn and dissect. She wouldn’t earn a peep out of me. Swallowing, I shifted slightly. Allowed her to think she was making me sweat.
“I think I will have a drink. Where is your restroom?”
“Down the hall and to your left,” she pointed.
Freeing my purse from my shoulders, I headed in the direction she pointed. In the privacy of the bathroom, I stood in the mirror, disbelieving I was really in this woman’s home listening to her bullshit. None of it settled well in my spirit. Fried, my nervous system was as if I’d walked into a lion’s den. After flushing the toilet, I ran the water for several seconds just in case the bitch was listening.
Let me go the fuck back out there before she puts something in my drink.
“…So, yeah, I cheated,” she continued as I stared the apple martini down, not bothering to touch it. “Maybe it wasn’t the right thing, but the man I was with was hardly a man at all. Marriage is a double-edged sword. It’s difficult once you’re in it, and divorce isn’t an easy decision. You’re damned if you do or don’t.”
Except… you didn’t make that decision. It was made for you.
“…Besides, there were other factors to consider before I left. Like my well-being. My quality of living. He’d boxed me off from having a career. I had nowhere to turn to. No funds of my own.”
She kept vomiting at the mouth until I’d finally heard enough. It was much of the same shit she used to spew after her yoga sessions though less filtered.
Leaving Mya’s condo left me more confused than ever. I hadn’t anticipated a so-called history lesson on the man I’d been with for the last eight months. While I wanted to call her a liar and a bitch and issue threats, some of what she said tracked with my experience with Duke. His attempts to keep me from working. His frequent requests for dinner. His suggestions about how I ran my business.
I’d always considered him helpful, but Mya described it as controlling. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been experiencing a watered-down version of what she’d described.
No.
I shook my head to clear it of the looniness that was Myaquanna. Hell naw. This bitch had gotten in my head.
Only one person was responsible for dispelling what she’d expressed, and that was me, not Duke. Secure in my relationship, I had no reason to welcome in doubt.
Despite my resolution, trepidation anchored my steps as I made my way back to the penthouse. Duke and his damn ex-wife. Between the two, it seemed as if I was trapped in the middle of a soap opera.
The inviting scent of Homegrown’s breakfast platter met me as I returned to the penthouse. Pancake platters with sausage and beef bacon slapped me across the face for the foolishness of going to see his ex-wife.
“I was wondering where you ran off to so early.”
Duke approached, held me at arm’s length, and scoured me from head to toe.
“Hey,” I spoke, sliding my purse from my shoulders and hanging it on the nearby hook. “It smells good in here.”
“My shit looks good on you. Where were you?”
For ten seconds, I considered lying. Ten seconds before he was in my face, killing me with bergamot and toasted vanilla. Lying to a man who brought home pancake platters and beef bacon was insurmountable.
“I—uh...”